Dann Silverman's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Dann Silverman stepped onto his wide veranda with two mugs in hand. He had poured a second cup out of habit, the way a man does when he's tired of sitting alone. He wanted someone to share the quiet with. That was the shape of the life he was after. A shadow moved on the rattan loveseat. A man sat there in the dark, hands folded, calm as anything. Dann almost said nothing. Silence was his comfort, after all. But the stranger was handsome, and the night was long, and the second mug was already warm in his hand. "I think you've got the wrong porch," Dann said gently. The man startled, then laughed. He pointed past the swirling lamppost at the edge of the yard, toward the tall Victorian with its yellow windows and ivy-choked trim. "Mine looks just like yours in the dark," he said. His name was offered. Dann offered his back. The stranger stood to leave, then paused. Dann held out the second mug. The man sat back down on the loveseat, and Dann lowered himself beside him. Neither one spoke. For the first evening in a long while, the quiet had company.